


The Lonely Rancher and the Juvenile

by Tigresse



Series: JohnLock AU [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama & Romance, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: John Watson is a broken and reclusive man after a series of unfortunate incidents in his life. He runs a ranch and a meat packaging factory and keeps to himself. Till his buddy Captain Greg Lestrade sends a gorgeous teenager to him for employment. Sherlock, the teen, has been disowned by his family for a juvenile crime he committed to save someone. What happens when the juvenile meets the lonely rancher....





	1. Not a ranch hand

John Hamish Watson looked at the young man and barely managed not to turn up his nose. “Captain Greg Lestrade sent you?” 

The young man nodded, “Yes Mr. Watson.” 

John sighed. He had been approached by his friend and former university classmate Greg Lestrade, a captain at a precinct in Austin, Texas, to employ one of the juveniles who had been under his mentorship for a year. He had said ‘yes’ almost as an obligation, since Lestrade had been his rock of support during his messy divorce a year ago and had even helped him in a situation where he could have gotten into trouble with the law. He owed him this and since his buddy was so highly impressed by this former inmate and so full of praises for him, he supposed it would not hurt him to employ the youth. 

But this boy was so young, totally urbane, almost fragile as compared to any ranch hand he employed. He wouldn’t be able to work at the ranch or even at the stables or pens with the animals. He would have to keep him busy with some chores in the farmhouse. 

He had to admit thought that the youngster looked lovely. Pale, almost translucent skin, two almond shaped eyes that were a brilliant shade of blue-green, cupid bow lips, cheekbones to die for and a tall, willowy build that made him look like a sexy ballet dancer.

But so unsuited to the work here!

“Sherlock Holmes,” the youth said. 

“I have read your name, isn’t it William?” 

“No, they call me Sherlock. William is so common.” 

“And you hate being common, ordinary, normal?” 

“If I didn’t, I would have been in high school like all my buddies. I wouldn’t have killed three men who were trying to hurt that old lady and her three little grandkids. I wouldn’t have gone to juvenile prison for a year and been on parole for another year. I am a free man now though, and Captain Lestrade said he can’t keep me with him anymore as I am past eighteen and an adult.” 

“Why don’t you go back to school?” 

“With what?” 

The pretty boy turned out his empty pockets and shrugged. 

John understood the lack of funds. He also had to admit he was impressed by the boy’s courage. He had no idea about the circumstances in which he was incarcerated but now that he had been told about them, he couldn’t really call this Sherlock fellow a criminal. He had done something out of the ordinary and paid the price for it. While other boys would have run away or called the cops, he had actually intervened and shot down three drug addicts who were trying to mug and shoot a helpless little family. 

“What about your family?” 

“Disowned and disinherited since I was arrested, I haven’t seen them in two and half years,” Sherlock said in a clear, unwavering voice. He didn’t sound hurt or upset, angry or even bitter. It was a statement, simple and point blank, spoken in a tone that was matter of fact. John understood this reasons for seeking employment with a wealthy rancher who also owned a stud farm and a meat packaging factory. He was far richer than Greg was and naturally could afford to employ this youth with a healthy salary that enabled him to get back to education in some time. 

“I guess we could find something for you here,” he announced, “Save up your wages because you’ll get fed, clothed and housed by me. Possibly go back to school in a year or two from now?” 

“I don’t need to.” 

“What?” 

“I got books in jail and studied, I have my high school certificate.” 

“You cleared it all by yourself? Who helped?” 

“There was a library in the prison.” 

There was a spark of pride and accomplishment in those eyes and John recognized a man of exceptional intelligence with a spark of brilliance that was entirely self-driven. It wasn’t an arrogant pride but truthful pride, a pride that came from honour and achievement. “That is excellent,” he commented, going through the youth’s file with a fine tooth comb, “I see you also play the violin and you want to major in chemistry when you get to University.” 

“Yes. This is my gap year. I graduated a year ahead of most students.” 

“Very well,” John had to admire this boy’s confidence, “I have a housekeeper Eva. She will show you a room and you can help around the house. Um….if you need to use my library or something that helps you with your education, or knowledge, go ahead and take them. But touch any alcohol from the bar without my permission and I shall toss you out arse first the next morning.” 

“Understood.” 

“You will be paid a thousand dollars a month, besides the other costs….clothes and food and lodging. I will also give you a small allowance every week for your entertainment costs, like watching a movie or a beer, so try and save up the thousand dollars for your education okay? If after a year I am happy with your work and you have behaved properly, I might help you with some additional funds to start off at University.” 

“Thank you.” 

Once Sherlock had been settled in, John called his housekeeper, the faithful Eva who had been with him for almost a decade now. She lived there at the farmhouse and cooked and kept house for John, did the laundry and also shopped for whatever groceries they needed to buy from the store (most of their produce came from the ranch). She also cooked lunch for all the twenty ranch hands who worked there while the foreman of the ranch, who lived at the edge of the property in a cottage that also belonged to John, took care of their breakfast and dinner. His wife cooked those meals and her husband was given a separate allowance for her services. 

“What a delightful young man he is,” she gushed, “So polite and kind.” 

“Yeah but he was also incarcerated at one point, he could get violent with the right trigger, so be careful.” 

“Oh he is no threat.” 

“Just be careful and observe for a few days, that’s all I ask.” 

“Fair enough Mr. Watson. What sort of work would he be doing for us?” 

“That’s what I was hoping you would give me suggestions on,” John said, “I am not sure what he should do, or he can do. Get him to do laundry and gardening and some grocery shopping to start with, tell him to learn riding and get a hang of the ranch work with Abe so he can help out with the ranch work later. But give him some time to learn the work of a ranch hand. He’s not exactly a small town boy.” 

***

As days and weeks passed, John felt a strange connect with this young man who seemed to draw him into his orbit without putting in any particular efforts to do so. The rancher found himself staring at the young man often as the curly haired youth went about his day, sometimes when he was riding one of the smaller mares, sometimes cycling around the corn fields, sometimes lying in a hammock and reading a book. 

Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to John’s attention. He was reclusive, somewhat of a smart mouth (according to the others, he had never done so with John) and could spend an inordinate amount of time in his own company. Certainly an oddity for a man his age. 

One day John had to go and help with a couple of mares who were due to give birth but the vet had not shown up. He had a pile of papers on his desk, waiting to be sorted out and many mountains of accounts, profit and loss statements and tax documents waiting to be organized. It was going to be an all-nighter, he thought tiredly as he trudged back home after the foals had come out and he had managed to wash off the evidence of his work from his hands and clothes. As he entered his home office with his plate of food in his hands, intending to start off while he ate, he was surprised to see the desk tidy and neat and papers kept in different out trays. 

He went through them and was astounded by how efficiently every paper had been sorted out, worked on, filed and results quantified and subsequent actions taken. A diary page was filled out with elaborate descriptions of a ‘to-do’ list and places where John’s signature was needed. In a nut shell, 95% of the deskwork was completed. 

Next to the out trays sat a little note from Sherlock which said ‘Dr Watson, I took the liberty of working on your papers since you were busy elsewhere. Pardon me but I had overheard that you have a meeting tomorrow morning with your accountant and these needed to be done by tonight so I got working while you were away. You still need to sign in some places and check some of the papers but I can assure you 99% accuracy in everything I have done. I also took the liberty of using your diary to note down the details, so you don’t have to go through every paper to find out what I did. Goodnight, hope you get some sleep – Sherlock.’

John’s feet automatically took him to the room Sherlock slept in. He seemed to be from an affluent family so he couldn’t give him a staff quarter. He had a guest room instead, a small one but a nicely furnished room he would have given to a house guest’s child or teen. 

Sherlock lay sprawled across the narrow cot, fast asleep, dressed in only pajama bottoms that rode low on his hips. It exposed more than his tailbone and John took in a sharp breath and stopped in his tracks.

Smooth skin, young nubile body, a hint of his crack showing, long flowing limbs which would feel so good wrapped around him, those lips…..

No no no, oh God, no, he was not a paedophile, he was not. 

John backheeled out of the room and ran to his bedroom upstairs. He locked the door and fell on his bed, hand inside his pants already. Images of Sherlock flooded his head as he stroked himself hard, feeling wetness spread from the tip and trickle down his shaft. 

God, he was so hard and aroused. 

His hand moved faster and faster and he bit down on the pillow to muffle the loud groans that threatened to come out. Though nobody else lived on that floor of the spacious and luxurious farmhouse he didn’t want to take a chance. It was a quiet, isolated place after all and the faintest screams could carry for miles. 

He thrust up into his fist and came, spilling all over his fingers, pubes and clothes. Panting heavily, he took off his shirt and wiped himself down with it, chest heaving with shuddering breaths he took. But as his post orgasmic haze cleared, he felt shame and remorse creep up on him and his entire body began to tremble. He knew he had developed a soft corner for the unusually pretty boy and should have stayed away from him, he should have definitely not entered that room.

Gosh, what had he done! This boy was under his care, not someone he should fantasize about in a sexual manner. He heard her voice again. 

“You sick sodomite, you horrid paedophile, you destroyed my life you cruel, uncaring cheating prick!”


	2. Everyone needs to eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock can't cook and John can't help falling in love

A soft knock on his door was followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps just outside it. John tensed up, looking away resolutely as he answered, “Yes Sherlock?” 

“May I come in?” 

John waved dismissively. The footsteps came closer and he tensed up even more. He didn’t want to smell the young man, that delightful scent of firewood, fresh grass, seasonal blossoms and a hint of petrichor. Sherlock always smelled earthy and delightful, like a child of nature. When the youth said nothing he was forced to turn around and the moment he did that he gasped. Sherlock’s face was scrunched up, as if in pain. A surge of protectiveness shot through him and he was on his feet in an instant. “What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” 

“No….toothache….” 

“Oh.” 

“You are a doctor, so…..” 

It suddenly struck John that Sherlock had addressed him as Dr Watson and not Mr Watson in that note. How did this boy know? How could he even know? 

Sherlock appeared to have read his mind and between winces of pain and adorably scrunching up his nose at the discomfort, he said, “I deduced you were a doctor from the medical journals you subscribe to. Also your hands, you have a delicate way of handling things which can only be done by surgeons. You help with the animals when the vet isn’t it and the ranch hands say you know your way there. Also, I observed that you prescribe and sometimes even provide the perfect meds for all the ranch hands or even Eva when she complains about any injury or illness. Those are not over the counter drugs, those can only be prescribed and procured by a physician.” 

John dropped the newspaper from his hands. 

“You are clever….” He said and looked away for a moment, then added, “I still have my license but I don’t practice.” 

“My tooth….” 

“Oh yeah of course. Though I am not a dentist I think I can help. Sit down, open wide.” 

Only fifteen seconds later John gave the verdict. “Wisdom tooth,” he said, “One has come out relatively easy but this one is pushing against the other tooth and coming out crooked. Happens to many of us. Listen, I am driving down to town in an hour and will get a gel and a small instrument that can help me make a tiny slit on the gum, to facilitate the emergence of the tooth without it causing you so much pain. Till then, pop a painkiller. I will give you one, hold on for a moment.” 

Sherlock gave him a grateful look. 

***

A month after that incident, John felt himself getting more and more intrigued by the youth that lived on his ranch and pottered about and around the house every day. He noticed Sherlock even more nowadays. The way his rare smiles lit up the entire world, the way his voice was cracking and slowly deepening, indicating a baritone coming in soon, the way his eyes changed colour depending upon the light and became light blue or bright green. Sometimes he saw Sherlock looking at him as well, his glance an equal mixture of admiration and inquisitiveness, and butterflies fluttered in John’s stomach like he was some college kid in love. 

How the hell did this young man have such power over him and how was he allowing those feelings to deepen every day?

It was early autumn now, summer had been delightful but it was getting over. Eva was supposed to go for a two-week annual vacation and unfortunately for them, her replacement was not available that year. “My niece Janice usually stands in for me Mr. Watson but she is pregnant and not capable of working during her third trimester,” his housekeeper said regretfully, “I could have delayed my vacation but I had promised my elder daughter I would be there for her graduation and I don’t want to let her down. As you know, their father will not show up because he simply never cared for me or the girls. I really do need to go, I am so sorry about this.” 

“That’s okay Eva, you should go. I will manage.” 

“I can help.” 

They saw Sherlock sitting at the kitchen table with his books and a laptop John had given him (one he no longer used). He raised his hand like a schoolboy eager to give an answer and become a teacher’s pet. 

“You can?” John asked. It occurred to him that Sherlock and he would be alone in the farmhouse now. 

“I have learned bits and pieces from her, so yes I can,” the curls bounced as the youth nodded hard. 

Eva looked doubtful, “He is just a kid. I am not sure….” 

“Go Eva, if he can’t do a few things then I will. You take time-off only once a year and you deserve this break. We will be fine. It’s only two weeks after all.” 

***

“Cook?” Sherlock asked, looking a bit unnerved, “For twenty-three people?” 

John looked at him, “Yes. Lunch. Twenty ranch hands, the foreman, myself and you.” 

Sherlock slowly nodded his head and disappeared in the kitchen while John, who had to receive some consignments at his meat packaging factory, left the ranch for a few hours. By the time he returned, it was almost lunch time and he was quite hungry. Breakfast had comprised of cold cereal, juice and coffee, nothing heavy or substantial, so he was ready to eat an entire goat by then. He suspected it would be the same for his ranch hands who had been working hard since seven in the morning. “Sherlock,” he called out to the young man, “What’s for lunch today my friend?” 

“Um….sandwiches.” 

John startled, “Say that again.” 

“Sandwiches…..cucumber and tomato sandwiches….and some soup.” 

“Soup?” 

“Canned soup. Canned chicken soup.” 

John rolled his eyes, “Sherlock you weren’t cooking for obese bankers who park their asses on a chair from morning to evening, or packing lunch for little kids who need a snack between heavier meals. You were to prepare lunch for grown men with a healthy appetite and an active, labour driven lifestyle. These men have been subsisting on porridge and coffee since morning and they’ll be just as hungry after this meal as they were before.” 

Sherlock lowered his eyes, “I….I am….not really….” 

“Did you or did you not notice what Eva cooks for lunch? The freezer, the kitchen shelves, the refrigerator, they are stocked fully for proper meals to be cooked. It was certainly not a lack of ingredients.” 

“I can’t really cook much.” 

His voice sounded so small that John wanted to hug him, however, his concern for his ranch hands won over that gentler side of his and he answered curtly, “Then why did you even offer to cook for us? You could have told me and I would have asked Abe’s wife Madison to help us out for a few days.” 

Sherlock swallowed, “I wanted you to be happy with me.” 

John blinked, “Excuse me?” 

“I just wanted to do something for you okay? I have been here three months and you have helped me in so many ways. You gifted me the mare, Edith, and bought me a mountain bike to ride, you helped me with my wisdom tooth, you bought me nice clothes and shoes to wear, you get me gifts all the time and all I can do is….I just helped you once with the accounts and that’s it….so when Eva was talking to you…I just said yes so you’d think I am capable of giving something back….something small but something at least.” 

He looked ready to cry and John’s barriers broke. In two quick steps he was with the younger man and took him in his arms. Sherlock clung to him like a drowning man to a lifeboat and buried his face in John’s shoulder. 

Suddenly the while equation changed and instead of holding someone with the intentions of comforting them, John found himself acutely aware of the slender, sensuous body in his arms, the scent of fresh apples from Sherlock’s hair, the hot puffs of his breath on his neck and a hint of….was that an erection in his pants that was pressed up against his side now? A huge jolt thundered through his body and he found himself getting unbelievably aroused, his brain screaming at him to stop taking advantage of this kid. No, he was not going back there again, no, he had to stop himself, stop himself right away. 

He pushed Sherlock off of his body and stepped back. But to take the sting off from his action, he gently brushed back a curly lock of his hair from his face and smiled, “No harm done. We can fix this.” 

“How?” 

His eyes were so blue and innocent. John felt his heart thud madly in his chest. 

“It’s almost time for them to show up for lunch Dr Watson.” 

“We will do this together,” John replied, rolling up his sleeves, “Just get out some eggs, fry two of them per person. Put the soup back on the pot and let’s add some chopped vegetables, some chicken and some noodles into it. Let’s give them some dessert too. I know there is a truckload of ice cream Eva left in the freezer, we can give them two scoops each as a treat. They don’t get to eat ice cream much.” 

“Yeah,” Sherlock smiled like an angel, keeping John’s eyes fixed on those lips for a long moment, “This sounds good.” 

Once everyone had eaten and left, John heaped two plates and brought them to the dining table. “Sherlock?” 

“Yes Dr Watson.” 

“Come here. Sit and eat.” 

“I am not….” 

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Everyone needs to eat.” 

“Sure Dr Watson.” 

Sherlock sat down at the table, his face registering gratitude at the privilege extended towards him, and began to eat in big bites and gulps. The poor kid was hungry. John felt a huge sense of satisfaction as he watched Sherlock eat and on a sudden impulse found himself saying, “From now on we will be taking our meals together. So make sure you lay out a table for two for all meals from now. As for the daily lunches for my men, we will both cook them together. I am sure I could refresh and re-use my slightly rusty culinary skills and my daily schedule can be easily organized in a way that keeps me at home in the first half of the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut is coming up, patience divas patience :-)


	3. Don't Get Rid of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's past comes to haunt him but Sherlock is stronger than he thought

Over the next few days John realized that ranch work or house work was simply not Sherlock’s forte. But he couldn’t get angry with the youth at all. How could he when he was such delightful company otherwise and showed all signs of being a real genius? 

They had started to spend their evenings together and the way Sherlock spoke about various chemistry experiments made John drive down to the city and buy him a full experiment kit, complete with a microscope and several other compounds he needed. 

He also noticed how Sherlock was able to take one look at a person and rattle off accurate things about the man or woman. From their neighbours Mr and Mrs Wray, to his drinking buddy from town Andreas Chang, to his ranch hands and foreman and even his sister Harriet who came visiting with her lesbian lover. At first he thought the boy had psychic abilities but Sherlock explained each and every deduction so logically that John was left reeling with pleasant surprise at just how sharp this youth was. If educated properly and given the right opportunities he could be a scientist, a politician, a pathbreaking entrepreneur, a bestselling author, so many things. There were so many levels of talent in the youngster. 

But household chores were not one of them. 

John noted how, after Sherlock had washed a load of clothes in the washing machine, one of his pristine white shirts looked strangely bluish, how his grey boxers had streaks of green colour on them, how a flower vase had mysteriously disappeared from the study, how some of the flowers in the pots had wilted a bit till he had watered them thoroughly and saved the from sure decay. He also heard yelps and curses from various rooms as Sherlock tried to drag a dust cloth or a mop around, followed by things crashing and breaking. 

But he also noticed just how this boy was blossoming into a man of this world, how the pretty kid was turning into a suave, debonair, adult. How curious his blue eyes were when John explained some medical breakthrough to him. How happily he smiled the moment John returned home around dusk. It made him want to come home. After a whole year and half of angst and loneliness, he wanted to come back home, looked forward to it even. 

One evening as a storm raged outside and the rain came down in buckets, John made hot cocoa with whipped cream and they sat down to watch a western classic, ‘For a few dollars more’, on the home theatre system. 

Half hour into the film Sherlock had fallen asleep on John’s shoulder. 

John had never felt so tortured before. Having this beautiful youth, this adorable yet sexy man-child in his arms and in such a vulnerable state, he had to use all his self-control to not kiss him and claim him on the spot. From the way Sherlock behaved of late, staring at him and trying to touch him, a hand on the shoulder, a bump of knees, sitting so close his hips touched John’s, the older man was convinced Sherlock would even let it happen. 

He would probably even enjoy it. 

But John couldn’t. Sherlock was irresistible, someone he desired both physically and intellectually, but at the end of the day he was way too young and literally under his charge. Once again he heard her voice screaming ‘Pedophile, cheating bastard, you will rot in hell’.

A loud thunderclap and the subsequent crash of a windowpane made Sherlock wake up with a jump and his sudden movement caused his lips to brush against John’s chin, followed by the groggy teen accidentally stumbling forth into his patron’s arms. That was the moment they lost track of time, their boundaries dissolved and suddenly it was mouth on mouth, Sherlock on John’s lap and John’s hands tugging and pulling desperately at those cute curls on the youth’s head. Sherlock moaned into the kiss, starting to grind the growing erection in his sleep pants against John’s denim clad crotch, opening his mouth wider to let his older lover gain access to his tongue. 

As their tongues dueled for dominance and their eyes fluttered shut, John’s hands crept down from the curls to hold the pert butt cheeks of his lover. He grabbed them and squeezed them and Sherlock almost howled with pleasure. 

They kissed and stumbled, keeping their arms around each other, as they somehow managed to make it out of the den and up the stairs to John’s bedroom. A trail of clothes stretched out from the bedroom door to the bed as they finally got naked aside from their boxers, and fell with a thump on to the soft mattress. Then John grabbed the elastic waistband of Sherlock’s underwear and pulled it off him, exposing him completely to his greedy eyes. 

Sherlock was well endowed and well hung. And he was hard as an iron rod, dick standing flat against his abs while his smooth soft thighs had tremors running through them, an indication of how close he was. 

Lovely, fresh, young virginal rose, John thought as he stared at his boy lover through appraising eyes. Just a little suckling and he would be done. But he was young and filled with vital energy and his refractory period would possibly be no more than two to five minutes. 

He kneaded those thighs and spread them apart, keeping his own boxers on for now, as he lay down between those toned long pins and licked a hot trail around Sherlock’s balls. 

“FUCK,” Sherlock screamed and his hand flew to his cock. 

“No,” John batted it away. 

“Uhhhh,” Sherlock tried to touch it again. 

“I said NO,” John chided him this time and Sherlock whimpered. Without any further ado, John swallowed the long cock, taking it almost from root to tip into his hot, moist mouth. Sherlock let out something between a screech and a scream. 

“Doc….W’tson…..ohhhh…..John….Jawwwnn…..gonna cummm!” 

He was being a sweet, considerate boy, like any decent lover would be, giving John a chance to withdraw before he shot his load. Though surprised that Sherlock was able to do so in his current state of extreme arousal, John did note the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. 

But he had no desire to waste the juices that his lover was about to release. So instead of pulling his mouth off and stroking him through it, John simply doubled his efforts. It didn’t take long. Sherlock tensed up completely, let out a shrill cry and suddenly made a jerking upward movement of his hips. Moments later he was cumming hard, shooting everything he had to offer down the rancher’s throat as his breath came in harsh, stuttering gasps and whimpering exhales. He came and came and came, causing John to pull back a bit since he was in the danger of choking. An ungraceful shot landed in his hairs and another one on his cheek, then a third and feeble shot struck the corner of his saliva slick mouth. 

Sherlock lay panting, his eyes on John and his expression contrite. 

“Sor….sorry…!!” 

“Nah, this is fine!” 

John licked the corner of his mouth and used his shirt to wipe at his face and hairs. He loved the way Sherlock tasted. It was sweetish and mild, with a faint vanilla like scent in it. Not the bitter, pungent milk of older men with beer heavy diets. 

“You didn’t.” 

“Huh what?” 

“I could help you finish.” 

Sherlock’s coy, almost innocent statement snapped John out of the haze of arousal that had trapped him in the past twenty odd minutes. He turned and looked at their reflections in the mirror on the wall and shrunk into his skin, his erection dwindling. All he saw was a much older man sitting between the open legs of a barely of age boy who lay naked and spent in his bed. Sherlock looked so trusting, so innocent, so pure and so young! What the bloody hell was he thinking! How could he allow this to happen? 

“Sherlock,” he said quietly, “Wear this robe and get downstairs, go to your room now.” 

Sherlock simply stared at him in confusion. He made no move to get up. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” 

Sherlock sat up slowly, looking rather curious and a bit upset now, “Why is it suddenly so important for you to get rid of me John?” 

“I am Dr Watson or Mr Watson to you. Now do as I told you. Go downstairs and forget what happened between us. It was a mistake and nobody should know, not even Eva or Greg. Now go, I am tired and it’s late.” 

“I am going nowhere till you tell me what’s wrong with me,” Sherlock snapped back at him uncharacteristically, “I am not going anywhere till you tell me why I am not good enough for you, why I was never good enough for you.” 

He sounded hurt and John felt doubly guilty by then. Not only had he taken advantage of an innocent, he had also upset the boy with his rude behaviour. He saw Sherlock sitting up on the bed, knees drawn to his chest and his head buried in his knees in a defensive posture and his gentler side won out over his trepidation. With a heaved sigh he gently touched the youth’s shoulder and said, “This is not about you Sherlock, it’s about me and my past. I didn’t want to talk about this to anyone again but after losing control and bringing you to my bed, I think you deserve the truth for me and nothing less.” 

“You love someone else,” Sherlock croaked. 

“No, not at all, no,” John moved closer and Sherlock disarmingly snuggled into his arms, “I was a closeted homosexual Sherlock. My dad, who owned this ranch, was a homophobe and had thrown my sister out and disowned her when she brought home a girlfriend. I was, as you correctly pointed out, a surgeon at a private hospital at Austin. There I met and married one of my co-workers, Mary, who used to work in the administrative services of the hospital. I didn’t want to marry but my dad forced me to and I lived very much under his shadow back then. But after he passed away six months later and my unconsummated marriage began to fester and wither away, things got pretty rough for me.” 

“You didn’t love her, why didn’t you divorce her when your old man died?” 

“Well, I did confess to her about my true preferences, promised her enough money to start a new life and apologized to her profusely. But she hatched an evil plot to take her revenge on me. She sent a young man, about your age, to seduce me. I um I got ehm seduced.” 

He saw Sherlock’s long fingers clutch at the sheets. 

“She had that boy file a complaint with the sheriff about underage sex and therefore rape. When I close my eyes sometimes at night I hear her screaming accusations at me of being a pedophile. Being homosexual is not punishable by law but being a pedophile is.”

“H-How did you get out of that?” 

“Greg helped, as did the sheriff who knew me well. That boy was twenty, not sixteen. He had faked his records. She had paid him. It all came out and they got sentenced. The kid was excused on the grounds that he had been arm twisted into this for his inability to repay a debt. He got a suspended sentence with a three-year period defined. One year community service. Mary got a year in jail, community service, a fine and I got my divorce. But I also got my social stigma. I could hear snickering behind my back at the hospital. I kept thinking all eye were always on me, accusing me, in every woman’s voice I heard her harsh notes.” 

“So you gave up your job and came here to live like a hermit?” Sherlock asked, “Why would you do that John? I had my bad times too, my family ditched me, but here I am living my life the best I could. I didn’t run away or compromise on my dreams. Can’t you do the same?” 

Those eyes had a fiery, honest, feisty look in them that held up a mirror before John’s eyes. He saw himself, a pathetic, weak and self-deprecating man who had forgotten how to live in a dignified manner with his head held high. It was that instant moment of realization that triggered his bravery, his resilience, and his jaw hardened with determination. Sherlock was right! Mary was his past. His dad was dead. He should live his own life the way he wanted to, rather than the ghosts from his past haunting him and making him tremble with remembered paranoia. If a kid like Sherlock could manage his life so well after a huge setback, then why couldn’t he? What was stopping him? 

The answer, he realized, was his own ‘cowardice’. 

“Thanks Sherlock,” he said with a small smile. 

“For what?” 

“For reminding me to be a real man.” 

“You’re not sending me away then?” 

“No, but we won’t do anything further tonight. Not after the chat we had. But you can sleep here if you want.” 

Sherlock instantly curled up in bed and held out an arm to him, “Nothing else I would like more in this world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I like Amanda as an actress and she did a good job in her role as Mary, this story has Mary Morstan as the arch villain. And she is a snotty bitch here.


	4. I know you are the one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘True love comes without flashing lights and blowing sirens. It creeps up on you and stays with you till you wonder how you ever managed without it’. 
> 
> *Read notes at the end*

John woke up to immense and powerful arousal that left him trembling in its wake. When he managed to open his eyes he saw Sherlock between his legs, sucking the head of his morning wood which he had managed to pull out of John’s boxers without him waking up. 

“Sherlock stop,” he groaned. He had not cum the night before and was dangerously close. Sherlock stopped, looking unsure and John smiled and pulled him up for a kiss. “I want to make love to you properly, that’s why.” 

That handsome face relaxed and Sherlock lay down on his back with a soft giggle. John shed off his boxers and reached for the lube he kept in his nightstand drawer, noticing how Sherlock’s eyes were on his erection all through. He tapped on the youth’s thighs to make him spread them and obediently the legs fell apart, giving him all the access he needed. Trying desperately not to get too overcome, John tensed his legs as he entered his younger lover’s body with his middle finger. Sherlock sucked in a noisy breath and his body undulated, a soft flush coming all over it as he was breached. 

“Have you done this before?” 

“No….in prison they usually sodomize you but Greg kept an eye on me and nobody dared to touch me.” 

“I am glad and honoured to be your first.” 

“One more please.” 

“Boy you’re impatient! Relax, I don’t wanna hurt you. We have all the time in the world.” 

“I won’t break. I am tougher than I look.” 

//That you are. No doubt. You taught me to be tough in fact, you gorgeous little doll//

John kissed the tip of Sherlock’s erection as he added a second finger. A flash of discomfort passed over the brunette’s face before he relaxed again and let out a small moan of desire. Bolder now, John added more lube to the tiny opening and added a third finger. He moved them in and out, letting Sherlock feel the pleasure more than the pain, and when his knuckles brushed the little bundle of nerves in there, the curly haired youth cried out with unbridled joy and arousal. 

“Please please please please….oh please!” 

John smirked. Probably Sherlock had no idea what he was even asking for. But he found it very cute indeed. Slowly he pulled his fingers out and slipped on a condom, thanking his stars he had some left with him. Being celibate for over a year and half meant he had never stocked up on this item in quite a while. 

He slowly rubbed his swollen glans against the twitching opening, took a deep breath and pushed in. Sherlock let out a keening sound and wrapped his long legs around him, drawing him in even further, just like John had sometimes fantasized about. In reality it felt better than the fantasy, way better, with the curly haired doll in his arms being so much more responsive, sultry and eager. 

Sherlock made a soft noise of discomfort and John stopped. Their eyes met and slowly John began to kiss him while one of his hands went to the slightly faltering erection, stroking it up and down and keeping the younger man’s focus on it. 

A near imperceptible nod from the youth and John began to push in again, slowly, inch by inch. Sherlock moaned and bit down on his bottom lip almost till he drew blood from it, before finally letting out a huge breath of satisfaction. John had slid all the way inside and was buried inside him root to tip. His thighs wrapped tighter around the older man and he began to move his hips back and forth in short jerking movements, trying to get John to move so he’d get another nudge to his prostate. The last time John did that with his fingers, it had felt so good he had almost come on the spot. 

“Slow down or you’ll hurt yourself,” John advised, though he was himself shaking with the need to move. 

“You won’t hurt me,” Sherlock whispered. The words were spoken in such a trusting, completely earnest tone and John got a little glassy eyed. This kid trusted him so much. He was changing him with his mere presence, restoring the confidence he had lost. 

Good Lord he was in love with Sherlock!

“Mmmmhhhhh Jawwwn!” 

Sherlock’s impatience made him smile and he began to move inside the younger man properly now, keeping his hand on the erection between those long legs and giving it the occasional tug. 

His eighteen-year-old bed mate turned out to be as noisy as he was eager and kept moaning, howling and cursing all through, clearly enjoying himself despite this being his first time. John noted this with curiosity till his inner voice told him why Sherlock felt none of those pains and hesitations of a young virgin being deflowered. They simply trusted and took care of each other, concentrating on the pleasure of the other man more than their own. Even with extreme sexual stimulation they hadn’t been rough or abrupt with any of their moves. 

“J-John…” Sherlock abruptly cried out, “Fuck it’s coming!” 

John started stroking his cock harder, his own vision going blurry with the need to climax. “Do it Sherl, just let go, cum all over my fingers,” he rasped out as he angled his thrusts, hitting the prostate repeatedly now. 

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he raised his head to look at the firm hand stroking his cock. John kept it up with some difficulty as he felt all his blood leave his brains and pool southwards. Even though dizzy and lightheaded he kept up the thrusting and stroking while Sherlock dissolved into a bundle of moans and pleas and yells beneath him. 

When they came, Sherlock first and John following seconds later, the entire bedroom seemed to shake from the impact of their lovemaking. 

***

Sherlock woke up several hours later, smiling and stretching and enjoying his sleep in. He remembered what he had done early in the morning and his smile grew broader and wider. He felt a bit sore at the tiny opening in his cleft but otherwise he was fine, the good doctor had been gentle and sweet with him. His eyes fluttered shut and he remembered the last thing he’d seen and felt before he had fallen sleep out of sheer post coital exhaustion – John lovingly stroking his hairs and cleaning up the mess he had made on his stomach. He had even cleaned between his legs but by then he had been too sleepy to keep his eyes open. 

“Finally awake,” a kiss was pressed to his temple, “I got you breakfast in bed.” 

Sherlock sat up so fast that John began to chuckle. But it wasn’t hunger that caused the movement but the surprise attached to it. The young man stared in wide eyed surprise at the tray of food before him, toast and scrambled eggs, ham and fried onion, apple crumble and coffee, two types of juices, one vegetable and one fruit, cutlery and napkins and fine china neatly arranged. It was evident that breakfast had been made and served with a lot of care and love. “You are going to eat with me right?” He asked, eyes darting back and forth between the food and John’s face. 

“Of course,” John grinned and tousled his hairs, “You didn’t plan on eating all of it did you?”

Sherlock blushed and shook his head. 

“I know you don’t eat much but you gotta start eating regular meals Sherl.” 

“I-I will. Why-Why do you look a bit guilty Jawn?” 

//He caught that. Clever, clever little bird// “How old are you Sherl?” He asked, biting the bullet for now. 

“Nineteen in three and half months. You?” 

“Thirty next month.” 

“Then you’re not that much older than me. I mean it might seem a bit much now but imagine when I am thirty-five and you are forty-six, it wouldn’t seem like a big gap. I am not underage and I am glad I have you, someone who’s mature and makes sense.” 

John had to smile at that comment, “Someone who makes sense?” 

Sherlock sighed, “Yeah. I was always a little ahead of the game where my peers were concerned. They didn’t understand me and I never got the hang of stuff they spoke about, utterly silly and frivolous stuff. I feel comfortable talking to you, just like I did with Greg.” 

John got the whole picture instantly and the slight anxiety swirling inside his head immediately dissipated. Sherlock was eighteen, but an ‘old and mature’ eighteen. He was definitely not a kid and didn’t enjoy the company of people his age because of his exceptional intellect. The doctor/rancher realized that in a strange way this worked well for both of them, Sherlock getting someone who would look after him and support his education while John would have a lover that was like a breath of fresh air in his staid, prejudice tinged life. They were not just well matched, they were also good influences on each other’s lives. 

***

The next few days were magical. 

John had never felt so alive, so free, so happy in all his near thirty years of life. He hadn’t felt this elated even when he had become a junior surgical resident two and half years ago. While waking up was a chore for him every day, now he longed to wake up just to see a dishevelled, sated Sherlock sleeping soundly in his arms, naked as the day he was born and clinging to him as if his life depended on it. 

He had expected the ranch hands, his foreman and his factory workers and manager to turn their noses up. Instead he was pleasantly surprised when he found that most of them were indifferent while a few were actually quite accepting of the fact that he was gay and had a male partner. As they saw Sherlock next to him, like one would see two partners together, a couple of them even walked up to him and told him that they too were homosexual and seeing John’s bravery in being open about his sexuality gave them hope for their future too. 

Sherlock had moved into his bedroom lock, stock and barrel and they were inseparable for most of the time. They cooked together, showered together, did their rounds of the ranch and factory together and even spent all their evenings together. Sherlock’s beautiful face was what John saw when he closed his eyes and his reposed face was what he woke up every morning to. 

Life couldn’t get any better than this. 

One morning, as John was waking up slowly from a long and restful slumber, his arms tightly wrapped around his young lover who was still out of it, the door opened and in walked two women with huge smiles on their faces. 

John nearly yelped in surprise. Sherlock made a groaning noise, shifted slightly and went back to sleep again. 

“Harry? Eva? Don’t you know how to knock?” 

“Well, how would we know you had company?” 

John threw a death glare at his sister and then at Eva, who scooted out of the room quickly with flushed cheeks. John remembered then that Eva was supposed to return to work that morning and somehow his sister had ended up visiting him at the same time. Oh well, this had to be out to them soon so why not now? Sitting up cautiously so as not to wake his lover, John waved his arm at Harriet and said, “I will be out in ten minutes. Now be gone, I don’t want him to wake up and see you standing at the foot of the bed with that ghastly wicked grin on your face Harry.” 

Later as he sat in the kitchen with his sister, the conversation took a serious turn. 

“I hope you are serious about this John,” Harriet said, “I saw him last time I visited. He is a bright and beautiful boy but very young. A heartbreak at this stage means he will never love anyone else again.” 

“I certainly hope his heart stays with me and for me, forever,” John replied, feeling warm and fuzzy as his sister stared judiciously at him, “I really love him you know. This is for keeps. But I do like the way you looked out for him first.” 

“You always looked out for Lucy, I guess I should return the favour. So what now?” 

“He will go to Uni in a few more months.” 

“Where he will meet young kids his age. Will you be okay with that? Or will you be insecure?” 

“No, not insecure at all. I know him well by now and I understand what he needs. Those Uni kids won’t get through his barriers. Also, I have decided to return to work.” 

“As a surgeon? Really? Gosh, he’s been good for you Johnny. You sound like your former self, only better and more determined this time.” 

John looked at her affectionately, “Listen Harry, if we were to be out for ten hours each day to Austin, him to Uni and me to the hospital, this place will need some looking after. And it’s as much yours as it’s mine. I was hoping if you’d like to move in somewhere closer and manage the factory at least. I want to sign it over to you, your name and also the apartment in Baltimore. It wasn’t fair for you to be disinherited for reasons that I am myself guilty of.” 

“None of us are guilty,” she said evenly, “As for your offer, I accept. Lucy actually likes ranch work and my work is more the work from home type, so I can also pitch in with managing the factory.” 

“Fantastic,” John smiled, “Seems good days have finally come up.” 

“For sure,” she replied with an equally big smile. 

Later, as Sherlock, John and Harriet sat eating lunch, Eva threw them fond looks constantly. At some point John walked to the kitchen and stood beside her, smiling at her meaningfully. 

“I always thought this was waiting to happen,” she confessed, “He kept asking me about you so much that sometimes I wanted to wring his neck. But the kid got under your skin from day one and I noticed it. I am glad you gave him a chance, gave yourself a chance. Nobody deserves to live their lives alone, isolated and starved of love, nobody! You found yourself a man who will make you very happy Mr. Watson. You guys fit in well together.” 

For a moment there was absolute silence. Then they burst out laughing. 

“No pun intended Mr Watson,” she said, still chuckling. 

“I know,” John said between laughs, “By the way, that would be Dr Watson from now on.” 

Moments later John walked back into the dining room where Sherlock was explaining a complicated theory to Harriet who was listening with rapt attention. He watched them from the doorway, one brown head and one sandy blond, and he remembered what his mum used to say when they were kids. 

‘True love comes without flashing lights and blowing sirens. It creeps up on you and stays with you till you wonder how you ever managed without it’. 

And John Hamish Watson had already forgotten how life was like before a certain William Sherlock Scott Holmes had walked into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JohnLock happens but there will be some bumpy rides for our boys. A glimpse into the next story in this series 'Two Crows Joy'
> 
> ***
> 
> “I don’t see anyone without appointment. Ask them to see the resident doctor if they need immediate attention and in case it’s an emergency or trauma they can go to the trauma wing where there are doctors 24/7…..” 
> 
> “I don’t think he is a patient doctor.” 
> 
> “Then who is it?” 
> 
> “He has given this business card,” she handed him a card that was fine and showy, almost a power roar, “He’s waiting just outside your chambers. He says his name is Mycroft Holmes and he sounded damned sure you would see him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of a four part series. Each part will have 4-6 chapters!


End file.
